ed reward if you succeed. Do you wish to
make good your boasted prowess?"

The tinker grinned broadly.

"Yes, your ladyship," he said.

"Then here is a warrant made out this morning by the Sheriff himself.
See that you keep it safely and use it to good advantage."

And she dismissed him.

Middle departed from the house mightily pleased with himself, and
proud of his commission. He swung his crab-tree-staff recklessly in his
glee--so recklessly that he imperiled the shins of more than one angry
passer-by--and vowed he'd crack the ribs of Robin Hood with it, though
he was surrounded by every outlaw in the whole greenwood.

Spurred on by the thoughts of his own coming bravery, he left the town
and proceeded toward Barnesdale. The day was hot and dusty, and at
noontime he paused at a wayside inn to refresh himself. He began by
eating and drinking and dozing, in turn, then sought to do all at once.

Mine host of the "Seven Does" stood by, discussing the eternal Robin
with a drover.

"Folk do say that my lord Sheriff has sent into Lincoln for more
men-at-arms and horses, and that when he has these behind him, he'll
soon rid the forest of these fellows."

"Of whom speak you?" asked the tinker sitting up.

"Of Robin Hood and his men," said the host; "but go to sleep again. You
will never get the reward!"

"And why not?" asked the tinker, rising with great show of dignity.

"Where our Sheriff has failed, and the stout Guy of Gisborne, and many
more beside, it behoves not a mere tinker to succeed."

The tinker laid a heavy hand upon the innkeeper's fat shoulder, and
tried to look impressive.

"There is your reckoning, host, upon the table. I must e'en go upon my
way, because I have more important business than to stand here gossiping
with you. But be not surprised, if, the next time you see me, I shall
have with me no less person than Robin Hood himself!"

And he strode loftily out the door and walked up the hot white road
toward Barnesdale.

He had not gone above a quarter of a mile when he met a young man with
curling brown hair and merry eyes. The young man carried his light cloak
over his arm, because of the heat, and was unarmed save for a light
sword at his side. The newcomer eyed the perspiring tinker in a friendly
way, and seeing he was a stout fellow accosted him.

"Good-day to you!" said he.

"Good-day to you!" said the tinker; "and a morrow less heating."

"Aye," laughed the other. "Whence come